


The Sensation of Love

by Ilovecastiel18



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale senses Crowley's love, Blood, Cute, David Tennant is my love and Michael Sheen is adorable, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, Other, That is all, Wings, injured crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovecastiel18/pseuds/Ilovecastiel18
Summary: Post-Apocalypse. Crowley gets into a fight with a couple of demons and finds himself at the bookshop during the healing process. Aziraphale starts being Aziraphale, making Crowley comfortable enough to stop holding his emotions so close to his chest. He forgets that Aziraphale, being an angel, can sense love. Aziraphale/Crowley. Hurt/Comfort, friendship, romance, bit of angst. One-Shot.





	The Sensation of Love

**Disclaimer:** Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn’t still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

……….

The Sensation of Love

……….

If he was being honest with himself, Crowley would admit it – he hated demons.

Demons were disgusting, honestly. They were dirty, smelly, and always covered in nasty creatures. They would be surrounded by flies and their clothes were always stained with Satan-knows-what.

They were also unnecessarily vicious and cruel, which was saying something, considering how merciless Heaven could be.

He had just been attacked by a couple of bloodthirsty demons when he was walking downtown, despite Hell’s assurances that he and Aziraphale would be left alone. Not that Hell’s word was worth much, really, but he still felt that it was all a bit over the top.

He was just glad that Aziraphale hadn’t been with him when he was attacked. They were supposed to be getting supplies together for the picnic Crowley had promised back in the 1960s, but at the last minute Aziraphale had needed to work in the bookshop, leaving Crowley to go out and get wine and cheese and meat and all the things that normal people ate at these things.

He hadn’t even made it to the first shop when he was attacked.

Crowley winced as he placed his hand against his ribs, feeling blood stick to his palm. To make a demon bleed… yes, he would need Aziraphale’s help to heal. One of his wings was torn, he had a gash in his side, and he was certain one of his legs was broken. It was taken every ounce of energy he had to be able to walk to the bookshop against the pain.

He had at least managed to kill the demons that had attacked him. They had been lower level beings, almost nothing. If it had only been one of them, Crowley would have walked away without a scratch. But two…

Crowley used his last bit of energy to push open the door of the bookshop, collapsing through it onto the floor. His vision went black and he lost consciousness, just as Aziraphale was hurrying toward him, worry in every line of his face.

……….

Crowley woke slowly, drowsiness forcing his eyes to stay closed even when his mind was active once again. He slowly cracked open his eyes, gingerly sitting up on the couch where he had been draped.

Couch? Crowley remembered passing out on the floor of the bookshop. When did he get onto the couch in the back room?

He reached a hand down to his side, noticing that it had been carefully bandaged. And…

His wings were out!

In his haste to put his wings away, lest some human customer see them, Crowley failed to notice Aziraphale walking toward him.

“There’s no need for that, dear. I closed the shop. It’s just you and I.” Aziraphale said, setting two cups of tea on the small coffee table and sitting in the armchair across from Crowley. “Are you feeling better? You’ve managed to heal your leg, but the gash on your side and the tear in your wing were rather nasty. Demon claws, I assume? Anyway, you weren’t healing them on your own, so I did the best I could until you woke.”

Crowley groaned obnoxiously, sitting straighter against the arm of the couch.

“I see you’re as elegant as ever, Crowley.”

“How long was I out?” Crowley grumbled.

“Only a few hours. You were completely depleted, my dear. I’m surprised you made it here.” Aziraphale replied. “I’m glad you did, though. You would have bled out by now if you hadn’t made it to me.” He grew quiet at the end of the sentence, staring at the mug of tea in his hands.

“It was, by the way. Demons.” Crowley said, trying to ignore the emotions that were showing on Aziraphale’s face and failing miserably. “I’m fine, angel. Thank you, though.” Crowley felt it was the right time for thanks, even though he generally avoided giving them.

“Of course, dear. Now that you’re awake… would you like me to heal your side and your wing? I wanted to make sure it would be alright with you before I did it.” Aziraphale muttered, setting down his tea.

“Might as well give it a go.” Crowley turned on the couch with a grunt, sitting with his spine straight and facing away from the back of the couch. He was sitting on the edge of the cushion to make room for his expansive wings.

“It’s going to hurt…”

“I’m no stranger to pain, Aziraphale. I fell for thousands of lightyears just to land in a vat of boiling sulfur. I’m always in pain, it’s practically my brother at this point. Just get on with it.” Crowley cut him off.

“You’re always…” Aziraphale started to question.

“For Satan’s sake, Aziraphale, will you please heal me?” Crowley cringed at his use of the word “please.”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale stood from his seat and bustled around to the side of the couch, first reaching to heal the cut across Crowley’s ribs. “Prepare yourself, dear.”

Aziraphale reached down and just lightly touched the gash, causing Crowley to grind his teeth against the pain. It only took a few seconds to heal, but there was a small bead of sweat at Crowley’s hairline that showed just how painful it was for a demon to get healed by an angel. Grace was the best weapon against the Fallen.

“I’m sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale walked around to the back of the couch, lightly grasping the demon’s shoulder to give him a small amount of comfort. “Your wing will take longer. If you want to wait…”

“Just get on with it, angel.” Crowley muttered, gripping the arm of the couch and bracing himself for the pain.

It wasn’t enough.

Crowley just barely bit back a scream as Aziraphale’s Grace touched his wing, the most sensitive part of his body. He gnashed his teeth and squeezed the arm of the couch until the stuffing was coming out. It only took five minutes for Aziraphale to fully heal his wing, but it was enough to make Crowley feel just as drained as he had been when he had stumbled across the angel’s doorstep a few hours ago.

In a moment of exhaustion and bravery, Crowley tipped his head back so it was leaning on Aziraphale’s chest, who was still standing behind him.

He felt Aziraphale hesitate, then reach his hands up and start running his fingers through the red hair in front of him. “Are you alright, dear?” he muttered.

“M’fine, Zira.” Crowley muttered, unconsciously leaning into the hands that were on his scalp. He wasn’t necessarily touch-starved… demons tended to brush shoulders and everything in the cramped basement that was Hell, but this was different. He hadn’t felt a gentle touch like this since… ever. Especially since his Fall.

Crowley hummed happily, even though he was still in pain. He hadn’t been this comfortable in a long time. He trusted Aziraphale so much…

He felt the hands in his hair still, and he cracked an eye open to look up into Aziraphale’s face. “What is it?” he muttered.

“You…” Aziraphale paused. “I think you just truly let your walls down around me, Crowley. For the first time ever.”

“What’d’ya mean?” Crowley slurred.

“I can sense your love, Crowley. I’m an angel, I can feel it washing over me in waves.” Aziraphale replied, letting his fingers start carding through Crowley’s hair again.

  
Crowley sat up abruptly, turning to face Aziraphale and putting his wings away at the same time.

Aziraphale could physically feel the walls go up again, because he no longer felt like he was being drowned by waves of love.

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I shouldn’t have…I mean… I didn’t…” Crowley stuttered.

Aziraphale shushed him, moving to sit beside him on the couch. “You don’t need to apologize, dear. It’s actually rather enjoyable to feel love like that.”

“But…” Crowley started to protest.

“What, do you think I don’t reciprocate?” Aziraphale asked, hurt in his voice.

“Well, you don’t even act like you like me!” Crowley yelled, suddenly angry. He jumped up from the couch and started pacing, refusing to look at the angel sitting in front of him. “What happened to ‘you go to fast for me, Crowley,’ or ‘we’re not friends, I don’t even like you,’ or ‘we’re an angel and a demon, we’re on opposite sides!’”

Aziraphale felt guilt wash over him at the pain he had put Crowley through. They had saved the world, stopped the Apocalypse and yet… he had hurt his friend more than any of that ever could. “Crowley…”

“I thought I’d lost you, Aziraphale! I thought you were dead! And then suddenly you’re back, going on picnics with me and tending my wounds and telling me you love me when _you’ve never acted like it before!”_

“Crowley, dear…”

“And now what? You sense my love for you in a moment of weakness and suddenly you love me? As if the last six millennia mean nothing…”

_“Crowley!”_ Aziraphale yelled, standing from the couch so he was nearly chest to chest with the seething demon. “I’m sorry for all of those things. I was… I was so desperately loyal to Heaven that I couldn’t see the bigger picture. Heaven was all I thought I had. They were supposed to be my family. I was so focused on them that I couldn’t see what you meant to me. I’ve been cruel to you. But…” Aziraphale stepped closer, tentatively taking one of Crowley’s hands into his own. “I _do_ love you. I understand that it’s probably far too late but… I’ve come to realize how much you mean to me. I couldn’t live here without you. I don’t even think I could manage in Heaven anymore. Not without you…” he carefully leaned forward so his forehead was resting against Crowley’s chest. He could feel the non-essential heart beating away under the demon’s ribcage. “I’m sorry, Crowley…” he breathed.

Crowley slowly brought his free hand up to place it lightly on Aziraphale’s back. “I’m sorry too, angel.” And he let his walls down again, let his angel feel the passionate, devoted, and all-encompassing _love_ that he had felt for his best friend for six millennia.

Aziraphale sighed contently against Crowley’s chest.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley wanted to explain everything, but he didn’t know if he could.

“I know, dear. I know exactly how you feel about me. I knew it even before I could feel it radiating off you. I feel the same way.” Aziraphale leaned up and kissed Crowley, wrapping his free hand around the small of the demon’s back. He pulled away to speak. “Now that Heaven and Hell are out of the equation, we can just be _us._ You and me, for the rest of time, my love. How does it sound?” Aziraphale asked.

By way of answer, Crowley leaned down and kissed Aziraphale again.

“It sounds like Heaven, angel.”


End file.
